the PDF here

e:\>_
Asian gaming histories e-zine | Issue 2 | Nov 2014
Family, friendship, love
and games in Asia
edited by Krish Raghav
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CONTENTS
Editorial: Diablo as social lubricant, and other
cautionary tales
Krish Raghav
04
My worst enemy has red hair: First dates at a
Hong Kong arcade
Rosalyn Shih
06
Super Sibling Bros 2: Taking on your brothers at
their own ‘sport’
Lakshmi Kumaraswami
10
Videogames and family bonding: More fun in
the Philippines
Chichi Morales
13
The gateway to people: Building a pan-Indian
gaming community
Y.V. Reetesh
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November 2014 | http://krishcat.com/edrive | Twitter: @krishraghav
Creative Commons cover photograph by Rob Sheridan ( www.rob-sheridan.com)
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The e:\>_ Manifesto
Gaming histories from Asia are not
partial, provincial, belated or ‘emerging’
For over two decades, large parts of the Asian continent were outside the world’s formal
gaming markets. But that doesn’t mean games weren’t being played, or made, or modded.
‘Developing’ Asia had its own unique gaming vernacular - a grey market and games culture defined by a constant sense of improvisation, clever innovation, and bending games
software and hardware to one’s own will.
e:\>_ is about chronicling these experiences. We’re interested in the culture of playing
videogames in countries across Asia, and stories about relationships and communities that
spring up around them. Insightful writing on videogames in Asia is scarce, and often hamstrung by cliché, stereotype and harmful exoticisation. We’re trying to fix that.
Find us at http://krishcat.com/edrive. We’d love to hear from you.
e:\>_ is published on a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0
International License. More information online: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/
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EDITORIAL
‘DIABLO’ AS SOCIAL LUBRICANT
(AND OTHER CAUTIONARY TALES)
(top-left and top-right) Screenshots from the original Diablo. (below) The all-important health and mana globes.
One of my foundational gaming experiences was pressing a
single key as my elder brother played Diablo.
He was having trouble with one of the endgame bosses, and I was waiting for my turn
on the home computer with quiet desperation. “Come here”, he said, with the unshakeable authority of someone five years elder. “Press the number keys when you see the
red bar, my health, go down.” In Diablo, the number keys activated ‘healing potions’ that
restored the player’s health while they fought monsters.
My brother pressed his index finger against my nose. “Don’t let my character die.”
I didn’t. The next week was spent staring at a depleting red orb in the corner of a 14”
CRT monitor while my brother explored the dungeons under the town of Tristram (“The
sanctity of this place has been fouled”). There were occasional high-fives as bosses fell
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under his onslaught of left clicks and my well-timed heals, and the odd verbal shouting
match as my attention wavered and I let my brother’s warrior (evocatively named “Decimat0r”) fall.
Me and my brother shared a tenuous, hostile relationship, forced to endure each other’s
company all day by dint of family circumstance. Flight sims and first-person shooters
were his escape, as side scrollers and simulation games were mine. But beating the forces
of evil, through our “teamwork” in Diablo, bought our imaginative and real worlds together. It was heroic lore for our tedious daily routine - an achievement that, grudgingly,
made us respect each other a notch more.
This issue of e:\>_ is about social relationships mediated by videogames. Stories of sibling rivalries, friendships, dates and love that involved games in some manner, either as
background decoration or active ingredient.
What happens between people when they play a game together?
The surprising answer is ‘We don’t really know’, but the breadth of emotional, heartbreaking, nostalgic and heartwarming contributions for this issue from countries across
Asia indicates a rich, untapped ground for further exploration.
Rosalyn Shih, from Hong Kong, unpacks the sensory overload that is the Hong Kong arcade alongside the other sensory overload that is a first date. (Page 6).
Lakshmi Kumaraswami (Page 10) and Chichi Morales (Page 13) write about sibling rivalries and friendships, and the complicated intermingling of gender and family dynamics
with videogames in India and the Philippines.
Y.V.Reetesh gives us an oral history of how the Indian Gamers’ Guild was formed, from
virtual community to real-world friendship (Page 15).
What these stories underscore is that games exist in a kaleidoscopic social universe, and
‘reading’ them as individual works in a vacuum misses the myriad contexts and roles they
can perform. A world in which Streets of Rage can mimic the frustrations of sibling rivalry, or a Taiko drumming arcade machine unravel societal conceptions of competition.
Not everyone thinks the original Diablo is a game about teamwork, but I always imagined
that the lonely warrior heading into Tristram had a younger sibling somewhere, rooting
for their success.
Krish Raghav is a comic book artist, games critic and policy analyst in Singapore. He shares a hometown
with Dhalsim from Street Fighter, but cannot shoot fireballs from his face. He writes at http://krishcat.com
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MY WORST ENEMY
HAS RED HAIR
FIRST DATES AT A HONG KONG ARCADE
Stuffed toy prizes at a Hong Kong arcade. Photo by rh_photo (https://www.flickr.com/photos/rh_photo/8543173900)
If
you ever intend to impress a first date, never suggest taking her to an arcade.
It was afterschool, and they were standing under the Big Screen in Causeway Bay,
in the middle of the busiest shopping area in Hong Kong. When he brought up the arcade,
Echo immediately thought of her DotA-obsessed older cousins, who sported five am shadows after pulling all-nighters at Mong Kok internet cafes.
To be fair, she knew Namco Wonder Park Plus wasn’t like those dingy smoke-ridden basements on Kowloon side. Echo hadn’t been to those arcades either, but she had watched
enough news reports on kids her age hospitalized after overdosing on Warcraft. She imagined dens filled with tattooed gu wak zai from the local triads, aiming plastic rifles from
violent shoot-‘em-ups and counting tiles from auto-shuffling mahjong tables. In her mind,
arcades were as dangerous as they were pathetic.
But all those months of awkward MSN conversations and embarrassed glances in GCSE
English had built up to this moment. So before she could suggest something else, she let
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Hoi Kin grab her arm and lead her through the crowded zebra crossing with his stupid
smile.
Echo felt her stomach sink as they rode the giant escalators into the WTC Shopping Centre. To get to Namco, you still had to take a separate series of elevators to the 6th floor.
As soon as the elevator doors opened, Echo was assaulted with noise. The sounds came in
two registers: the bass notes of explosions, engines and machine guns, and the high treble
of rainbow-sprinkled 8-bit pop music. A horde of uniformed schoolgirls rushed towards
the photobooth sticker machines, but Echo was coaxed in the other direction. Within
minutes Hoi Kin had produced a plastic bag full of golden tokens, jingling them in front of
their faces like a happy pirate.
Before Echo could insist on his wastefulness, Hoi Kin had darted off with the treasure. In
seconds he was lost amongst the rows of cabinets, so Echo passed the simulated racing
cars and shoot-em-ups, venturing through the gaudy claw machines and coin pushers.
She saw the unmistakable Mario Kart and Puzzle Bubble games, but she had also watched
enough of her older cousins’ playing their consoles to recognize Mortal Kombat, Street
Fighter, Gundam fighting games, and Border Break. Some of the games were a little
stranger though. Echo was pretty sure she had never seen a dog-walking simulator, or
even a game where you pedaled a bicycle to operate a digital hot air-balloon.
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The rhythm game section was irresistible. It was mesmerizing to observe the silent players in deep concentration amidst the constant blaring of sound and activity. There were
kids aplenty, but also a respectable proportion of adults, even businessmen withbriefcases
resting on top of the cabinets.
There were the Dance Dance Revolution hardcores, who wiped their foreheads during
breaks with towels they kept slung over the back handrails. A girl scratched a turntable
like a DJ with one hand, using the other to manipulate buttons color-coded in black-andwhite to resemble piano keys. Others wore gloves as they played maimai: hitting 8 buttons arranged around a circular screen. Their focus was intense. Closing her eyes, Echo
could listen to the complex fabric of the rhythmic clicks.
Echo was content to watch from the sidelines. When she finally caught sight of Hoi Kin,
who waved her towards a two-person Taiko drum set, she was apprehensive. He handed
her two drumsticks as he dropped the coins in the slot. She had to choose a song by striking the sides of her drum as he explained how to play.
Watch the dots appear on the screen, and strike when they approach the central yellow
circle. Red means hit the center, and blue means the sides. A small circle is for one strike,
and a bigger circle is for two. When you see the yellow balloon, just go crazy. Sounds cool?
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Maybe I should just watch you play the first round.
Don’t worry, I put in the coin for us both already. Hoi Kin grinned and struck the drum to
confirm.
Echo wished she could’ve been a good sport, but her game was terrible. It took her about
10 seconds to figure out where to strike the drum. And when she did, angry ghosts appeared on the screen instead of the lanterns that appeared on Hoi Kin’s.
When the game ended and the four-legged drums announced an F-, Echo’s eyes were
stinging from disappointment and frustration. She was reminded why she hated the video
games so much. They reminded her of competition against her cousins, the inevitable failure and the humiliation of being excluded from the “games for boys”. Echo worked hard
to do well in school and get perfect grades, and she wouldn’t stand for instant death just
because she accidentally walked into a goomba.
Hoi Kin listened patiently. You don’t have to be so hard on yourself. You can be a better
gamer by taking the game seriously, but not yourself. Besides, the world’s not so bad
when your worst enemy is a red-haired turtle with spikes on his shell, right?
That’s right! Everything around them was nonsense! Echo grinned back.
Winning sometimes meant typing gibberish characters on a keyboard to stop a zombie
invasion. Or walking a dog at the right pace so it didn’t run away or strangle itself. Or directing the right colored bubble to pop other bubbles, so a wall of them wouldn’t crush
the little dinosaurs to death. But next round, she insisted it meant smacking a drum to see
which dog-like Taiko character ate the most sweet potato.
Rosalyn Shih is third youngest of 14 cousins and contributes to The Anthill, a writer’s colony based in Beijing (http://theanthill.org/). Her worst enemy has white fur and vomits on
the floor when her owner feeds the wrong cat food.
Photos on Page 7 and 8 by Patty (https://www.flickr.com/photos/archangeli/5165726106/)
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SUPER
SIBLING
BROS
2
TAKING ON YOUR BROTHERS AT THEIR OWN ‘SPORT’
A screenshot from Streets of Rage. The character in red, on the right, is Blaze the ‘Judo expert.’
I
could start this story like a Great Indian Novel, and say ‘In my growing years, I was a
tomboy.’ But that’s such a horrible cliché. And it would only be half true. The full truth is
I was a reluctant tomboy.
Sandwiched between two brothers – Vishnu, two years elder, and Bharat, two years
younger, it was difficult to find things that united us in joyful siblinghood. In 1994, 8-yearold me struggled to find any common ground with them. So I decided to force my way
in. My parents sent us to the same barber so I already looked the part. I told myself I was
a tomboy. A 1990s tomboy, mind you, which meant it wasn’t only about having a bowl
haircut (which I had) and permanently wearing shorts and a T shirt (which I did). It meant
the boys were playing outside a lot, but that lazy-arse gene that we millenials have was
kicking in, and kids were moving indoors to seek entertainment.
Besides, there was no chance of me playing with their sedate neighbourhood gang outdoors – I did not have an athletic bone in my body. But inside, they had no choice but to
include me in their activities. . So I spent many a summer holiday watching sports like
football and cricket, watching something that masqueraded as sport called ‘WWF’ and
playing video games.
It all started when Vishnu’s friend left his SEGA Mega Drive 2 at our house by mistake. My
brothers spent several weekends eyeballs deep in Sonic the Hedgehog and Street Fighter.
‘Can I play?’ I’d ask Vishnu, who at the time was fashioning himself on that mean older
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brother Buzz from Home Alone. ‘Nope,’ he’d snipe, going back to that blue marsupial with
a mohawk. Bharat, Kevin to Vishnu’s Buzz, grateful that his big brother wanted to play
with him at all, would grin cheekily.
I’d play by myself when the pair were practising wrestling moves on each other. Soon,
they’d reluctantly let me try – smirking or groaning with frustration every time I died.
‘Teach me, then. I don’t want to keep dying like this,’ I pleaded. Perhaps they felt sorry for
me or maybe they didn’t want me complaining to my mother that I was feeling left out,
but they did. Subsequently, after many lessons of ‘You aren’t pressing A fast enough,’ and
‘You’re pressing Y too late!’ they let me play the loser after they battled it out. After all,
‘second place’ is a better title than ‘loser.’
Screenshots from platformer Claw (left) and the original Need for Speed (right).
I came into my own with Streets of Rage. I loved the story – three ex-police officers taking
back a city from the mafia. By then, the boys had decided that I played decently enough
to game on my own. Out of Adam, Axel and Blaze, I would always choose Blaze, the judo
expert who was technically the weakest, but had the highest kicks. I’d like to make some
profound statement here about ‘identifying’ with this character, but I was no judo expert;
I just liked the idea of a girl taking down a criminal syndicate.
I will admit that this is the only game I completely finished all on my own. I still remember
the rush I felt when I got to the final level and I had to either accept or reject the super villain Mr X’s offer to become his henchman. The slight fear of wondering if tiny Blaze could
face the gargantuan, lurid-green-suit-wearing Mr X. The confusion of wondering what the
word ‘oblige’ meant before Vishnu explained. And,finally, the triumph of destroying him
and bringing peace to a fictional city.
Once I’d finished this game, I was in with the boys. They’d moved onto playing a game
on their PCs called Claw. Bharat introduced me to cheat codes that I’d use to give Claw
the power of invisibility, a lightning sword and even the ability to skip levels. Sadly, by the
time I advanced in this game, they had finished it....and moved onto a game called Quake.
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Now, a colourful game about a scrappy feline pirate, I could play. Quake was about killing
people, watching their guts fly everywhere and moving on to killing more people.
Eventually, I stopped playing video games with them. My cousin had introduced me to the
world where twenty-year-old men were bound together and referred to as ‘Boy Bands.’ I
spent my weekends listening to the Backstreet Boys instead. So removed was I from gaming that I can’t even remember what they were playing. All I’d hear were abbreviations like
‘NFS’ ‘GTA’ or I’d see Vishnu swearing at the screen whilst playing Football Manager (why
all football-loving men in my life are obsessed with this game I will never understand).
Playing those games with them were some of the best moments of my life. And even
though they grumbled about me constantly hanging around them, I imagine it helped the
boys too. Not in an incredible, gender-barrier breaking sense. But in the simple fact that
they played with a girl at an age when boys thought girls were gross. That they included
me in activities other than video games (we played pro-wrestling Trump Cards and they
even let me umpire cricket matches.)
Today, the Kumaraswami siblings have a lot more in common – we like our whisky, can
quote from The Lord of the Rings and our go-to karaoke song when drunk is Miley Cyrus’s
‘Wrecking Ball.’ And I can safely say the foundation for this camaraderie was those epic,
virtual battles to take down the mob 15 years ago.
Lakshmi Kumaraswami is a freelance journalist. She currently writes a column on social media and technology for India Today. Her work has appeared in India Today, The Times of
India and the World Policy Journal blog.
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VIDEOGAMES
AND FAMILY BONDING:
MORE FUN IN THE PHILIPPINES
Commuters on the Manila LRT. Photo by Duane Mendoza (https://www.flickr.com/photos/adamendoza/5356614215/)
T
wenty four seconds left in the 4th that will give them the win. The score is tied at
95 and Gary Payton crosses the half-court and evades the double team from Tony
Parker and Manu Ginobili. He passes the ball to Dwayne Wade who was quickly
hounded by Bruce Bowen. Wade was able to pass the ball to Shaquille O’Neal for the hook
shot. The game is now down to seven seconds and the Heat are up by 2 points. The Spurs
take a 20-second time out to discuss their strategy. The referee blows the whistle that
marks the end of the time out and start of the inbound. Bruce Bowen passes the ball to
Ginobili. He makes a quick turn-around jump shot and the ball bounces of the ring. I gave
a frowning look to my brother as he exults in joy. It was another score for him in our never-ending NBA Live tournament for PS2.
“That was unfair”, as I uttered to my brother.
“Better luck next time and I guess you need to practice more,” he replied. “Loser.” Of
course, there were days that I won the regular NBA Live game and the scores were not
really much of a big deal between both of us. Oftentimes, it would also be part of our
conversations when we look back at the times we played the game especially when a new
version was recently released. It was not much of the game that we discussed but the mo13
ments and the time we spent talking and sharing our thoughts.
Looking at the existing literature and studies, little has been written about sibling dynamics and video games especially in an Asian setting. It’s common knowledge in the region
that video games lead to addiction, aggression, violence, isolation and to some extent
- individualism. This is contrary to the Asian values of close familial ties and societal belonging. In 1985, a study was conducted to analyse the dynamics of family interaction
around home video games. One of the interactions studied was sibling relations. The study
showed that children played together more and a family of two boys indicated that “the
boys played together for many weeks enjoying each other’s company as never before”. In
addition, the results also showed that children with siblings tended to play more together
than single-child families. However, the study is limited to US families alone and the same
case cannot be seen as true for Asian families.
With the proliferation of various platforms for video games, i.e. tablets, handheld video
consoles, one cannot help but think about their influence on family dynamics and sibling relationships in Asia. One may think that there is a trend going towards individualism
based on the nature of the video games (e.g. Flappy Bird, Candy Crush Saga) and platforms available (e.g. tablet, smartphones). On the other hand, one can also argue that
video games are leading to more cooperation and competition through the proliferation
of multiplayer games (e.g. World of Warcraft). Both trends are present in the Asian context but their effects on sibling relationship and family dynamics are yet to be studied.
A platform for bonding
Growing up in a family that gives primacy to education, video games were supposed to be
recreational and cannot be played on a school night. My brother and I, being avid gamers,
broke these rules. There were also times that we played individually and one would usually
watch. For us, video games was not only a way to de-stress ourselves from the everyday
quarter and the Miami Heat can still execute a play humdrum of life but our time to bond.
We did not only talk about the games we played but it was a venue for us to discuss the
issues that affected us and family matters. Despite the evolution of the video game consoles and gaming graphics, the bond that was developed between us remained constant.
Chichi Morales is a professional consultant, semi-professional marathon runner, and freelance games enthusiast.
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THE GATEWAY
TO PEOPLE
BUILDING GAMING COMMUNITIES ACROSS INDIA
We asked three gamers from across Asia a series of questions about discovery, piracy
and retail culture in their respective cities and neighbourhoods. Edited excerpts below:
The author with the attendees of the first Indian Gamer’s Guild Bash in Nagpur, India. All photos courtesy Y.V.Reetesh.
In
2003, I finally joined an internet forum after years of lurking. The internet was my
primary source of information and content related to games, about these arcane
things that would take many more years to be available in India.
By that year, I had spent over 4 years listening, watching, and reading content from GameSpot.com and felt their community to be the right place to call my home on the Internet.
The forums were a fun place to hang out, with all the OT and General Discussion boards,
but it was when GameSpot introduced their (now defunct) Unions feature that things
took a great turn.
By this time I had already made good friends with many from the community and was able
to find other GameSpot users from India by constantly nagging about how online MP was
so hard here because of the creaking, slow internet. GameSpot was also the first time I
was talking to people from all over the world. It was my introduction to the vagaries of
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time zones. I made quite a few Australian friends because they would mostly be online
when I was. US was basically 12 hours behind, so I would often find myself talking to the
late night insomniac crowd. No one I knew in the village, town, or vicinity I lived in had the
same level of interest in games as me, it was but a fleeting pastime for most, but it had already become something more integral to my life by then. Here I was, someone who only
had his brother to talk to about games for the longest time, in these online communities
where I was able to find a new sense of belonging.
***
As soon as Unions began, I gathered my “Non-Japanese American European Gamer”
(N-JAEG) friends and created a union. This was named as such because by then it was
very clear to me that Japan, America and Europe were basically the biggest markets for
games and everywhere else had been a neglected market, left behind in terms of releases
and experiences. One of the core uses of the group was to enable users to group up, create servers and play games with each other of similar time zones. The group had its own
boards where we had sticky topics to exchange Xfire IDs and the like, so that people could
find members nearby. Created topics for starting tournaments, introducing everyone and
the rest of the standard topics that would come with such groups.
The group grew to over 100 members quickly and this became a place of cultural exchange more than for generic video game release discussions. Things like how (and why)
games releasing in Europe were localized to so many languages whereas localization was
not of great importance for games in N-JAEG countries, etc etc.
Out of the many games we played, Trackmania Nations was a popular one we all played
together, especially because it was simple to run and less reliant on latency. I also arranged
the occasional Videogame trivia contests with a “member of the month” highlight as the
prize. Of course everyone was welcome and this was not some exclusionary club. It talked
mostly about N-JAEG topics but we had JAEGers too. A while later, the group rebranded
to “AAAG” which meant “Asian African and Australian Gamers” (referring to the Continents) which had a better sound to it, especially because it no longer sounded like some
off-shoot of the N-GAGE brand.
Around this time, my friend Neeraj approached me to start a Union for gamers from India
alone. Starting a Union in GameSpot required one leader and 4 officers, once you had that,
all you needed to do was getting others to join. I said yes, and other friends I knew also
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joined in. We decided to go with the name “Indian Gamers’ Guild”, and soon everything
shifted to top-gear. We had members who were good with Photoshop, so we had a very
good logo and a great banner in no time. Admins and I started off posting civil conduct
policies and standard topics. Managing more than one Union was not uncommon, I was an
officer at multiple groups like Classic Adventure Games, Canvas Zero (for artists). Those
were the days… having lots of free time, energy and enthusiasm.
Everybody became great friends, always posting in topics, talking to each other about the
games they played, completed, sometimes about finding a new local shop that imported games. This was when Cell Phones had just become popular, soon I found myself exchanging phone numbers via Private Messages and talking to friends like Gagan (from the
forums) even offline. Even though most members were in India, most of the active members were from different cities, states apart, hundreds of kilometers away. Gagan would
occasionally visit Hyderabad, the city where I lived, and we finally met once at a Mall and
this was my first time ever meeting an online friend offline. We became very close friends.
Until then, the only games talk I would have offline was with friends in school where, over
the lunch break, I would tell them about the “emergent stories” from my video game experiences, and explain to them why games were such good experiences with a lot more
value to them, not something to be considered just a “waste of time”. Of course games
may not help give you good marks in your Exams (priority 1 for anyone going to my
school) or make you better at Cricket, but these vicarious experiences would show you
the world through someone else’s eyes. From being the one who would be like some priest
proselytizing non-gamers into Gamerdom, I had finally met someone else who was just as
much into the whole games ecosystem as me. This was just the start, as I soon met Neeraj
when I visited Madras. Whenever I was at a city where I knew there was a friend, I would
try my level best to go and meet them even if it was just to say Hi.
Years went by, more and more members joined IGG, there were now people in the group
whom I knew for almost one-third of my life. From being a 11-year-old surfing GameSpot
to find out about these crazy new game consoles that played CDs, things had changed so
much. By 2009 I had access to the then current-gen consoles and was playing games that
had been released the same year I was playing them! It was exactly 5 Years ago from the
day I write this that we had the first ever “IGG Bash”.
Me, Gagan, Neeraj, Shiben, Amit - we decided to meet at Gagan’s place in Nagpur for 3
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days and do nothing but play games. These were people from different parts of the country, all meeting at the geographical center of India, Nagpur. Gagan had his whole house to
himself for that time and it was possible to accommodate us all, Gagan’s cousin Ashu, also
joined us for the whole thing. This was what you’d now call a mini-con. It was nothing like
anything I had ever done before (or since then). All of us were people who were very accustomed to having gaming marathons and now it was basically a group marathon. Some
of us brought in extra controllers and gaming stuff of their own. We checked out Gagan’s
awesome collection of games and paraphernalia, we then mostly were in the room that
had huge open space and a TV set up. The right kind of setting for the three days.
We played 4 Player games like FIFA, Halo, Little Big Planet and Motorstorm. Completed
Halo: ODST from start to finish in one sitting as others tried out Tekken 5 and Contra 4
local MP/Co-op on PSP and DS. There were so many things to do, like compare PC and
Console games, watch some fun movies, checkout games in “FULL HD 1080p” something
not very common back then. Even when we were not playing, we went out, had lunch at
various places, dined and talked about the latest industry news, about the personalities,
and our memories from GameSpot days of past.
These were all friends who had known each other through the internet and were now
close friends. This was an event that I still think will be something that I will not forget till
the furthest time I can imagine. Neeraj and I also attended Gagan’s marriage a few years
later. We all have mostly “graduated” from GameSpot, it is merely the shadow of what it
was before, to us. No more Unions, and hardly any of the contributors we followed are
currently at the site, we all still keep in touch via twitter and have an IGG group on messaging apps, we still keep having discussions on life, and videogames. Still in touch, thanks
to the Internet, and a medium we all still love.
Y. V. Reetesh is a games critic who’s followed the medium for close to 15 years. He has started
gaming communities, contributed to online and print magazines, created a website about
the two hemispheres experiencing each others’ creations (WEastFellows.com), and an auto-biographical blog series recollecting his (game) life. He tweets as @reetesh.
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http://krishcat.com/edrive
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